man standing before me with the picture I had imagined on my way here. Julian looked far younger than he had when we met over twenty years ago. His lean, muscular frame bore no resemblance to the pasty, bloated figure who had sat behind the wheel of that Ferrari. His face was unlined and relaxed. His bright blue eyes seemed to cut right through me.
“Please excuse me,” Julian said, waving his hand around the room. “I wasn’t sure what time your flight would arrive, so I thought I would take my Saturday lesson. But now that you’re here, let’s head upstairs.”
Julian led me to a door, which I hadn’t seen from the entranceway. Opening it, he gestured for me to head up the stairs. When I got to the top, he moved past me and opened another door. “Come in, come in,” he said as he stepped into the room.
The apartment was bright and spacious, but nothing like the kind of home I imagined Julian living in. The furniture was an odd assortment of old and new. Posters of musicians and dancers doing the tango adorned the walls, and stacks of books sat on the floor. It looked a bit like the home of a college student.
“I’m sorry to have made you travel such a distance at short notice, but I’ve been staying in this gorgeous city for the past few months. A friend was looking to sublet his apartment, and since I’ve always wanted to learn to tango, I thought this was the perfect opportunity. Let me get changed, and then I’ll make us some coffee.”
Julian disappeared down a long, narrow hallway. I sank into a chair that was covered with a cotton throw with the words “Be Extraordinary” embroidered in its center. I could hear the tango music drifting up the stairs and feel it humming under the floorboards.
As I waited for Julian, my mind began to race. What was I doing? What did I know of this man? I felt a powerful sense of unease move through me. Somehow I knew that as soon as Julian walked back into the room, my life would never be the same. I sensed that what lay ahead of me was going to be difficult and exhausting. I don’t have to do this, I thought. I looked over my shoulder to the doorway, wondering how long it would take me to find another cab. Just then Julian walked back into the room.
He was now wearing a long crimson robe. The hood draped his head.
“Tea or coffee?” he asked as he moved into a small kitchen at the far end of the living room.
“Coffee, please,” I said.
I felt awkward sitting in the living room alone; I got up and followed Julian into the kitchen. As Julian prepared the coffee-maker, I looked out of the window, down to the narrow cobblestoned street. The dance class must have broken up because couples were pouring out onto the sidewalk below. The syncopated music had been replaced with the sound of talking and laughing.
Finally I turned to Julian. “What…” I hesitated, trying not to be too indelicate. I started again, “What do you need from me? Why did you want to see me?”
“Jonathan,” said Julian, as he leaned against the counter. “Do you know my story?”
I wasn’t sure what Julian was getting at. I told him that I knew he had been a litigation lawyer who had made a fortune and had lived a lavish lifestyle. I told him that I heard he’d had a change of heart and left his practice. I wasn’t clear about the details.
“It’s true,” said Julian. “At one point, I was more successful than I had ever dreamed I could be—as far as fame and money go. But I was destroying my life. When I wasn’t consumed by work, I was smoking cigars and drinking expensive cognac, having a wild time with young models and new friends. It ruined my marriage, and my lifestyle began to take a toll on my career. I was in a downward spiral, but I didn’t know how to stop. One day, in the middle of arguing a big case, I crashed to the floor of the courtroom. A heart attack.”
That rang a bell. Mom had probably told me something about this, but I obviously hadn’t been paying too much attention.
Julian shook the hood from his head and then reached up to a shelf above the sink to pull down two mugs.
“I spent months recovering my health. During that time, I made a decision.”
I sighed. This is where that lovely Ferrari got tossed.
“I sold my mansion, my car, all my possessions. And I headed to India, hoping to learn what I could of the wisdom of the world. You see, building my net worth had become less interesting to me than discovering my self-worth. And chasing beautiful women had given way to pursuing enduring happiness.”
I stifled a sigh. It sounded as if this was the beginning of a long story. I was impatient to hear what any of it had to do with me.
“During my travels deep in the Himalayas, I had the great good fortune of coming upon an exceptional man. He was a monk, one of the Sages of Sivana. He took me high into the mountains, to the village where the sages lived, studied and worked. The sages taught me many remarkable lessons that I would love to share with you.”
Julian paused and looked down toward my feet. I realized with embarrassment that I had been tapping my foot like some impatient customer in a shop line.
Julian smiled. “But I sense that now is not the time.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I guess I’m just a little anxious to get back home.”
“Not to worry,” Julian said gently. “A story should be told only when a listener is ready to hear it.”
“You want to know why I asked you here today?” Julian said.
I nodded.
The coffee was ready. Julian poured two mugs. “Milk? Sugar?” I shook my head. Julian handed me a mug and then headed into the living room. Once we had both settled in chairs, he continued his story.
“One of the things that the monks taught me was the power of the talismans.”
“Talismans?” I said.
“Small statues or amulets. There are nine of them. Each holds a piece of essential wisdom for happiness and a life beautifully lived. Individually, they are just symbolic tokens, but together they hold extraordinary transformative powers. They can, in effect, be lifesaving.”
“You need to save a life?” I asked. It sounded a little melodramatic. Or a little crazy.
“Yes. There is someone I know who is in desperate trouble. Others have tried to help, but with no success. This is our last resort.”
“Does this have something to do with my mother?” I asked. She had been very upset on the phone.
“It does,” said Julian. “But I am not at liberty to explain how.”
“Listen, if my mother is sick or something, I have a right to know.” I felt my chest get tight, my breathing shallow.
“Your mother is in no danger,” said Julian. “That’s all I can say.”
I was about to press him, to ask more questions, but Julian had drawn his lips together, put his coffee cup down on the table in front of me. It looked as if he was ready to end the conversation. I sighed and looked down at the floor for a minute.
“Okay,” I said, “but where
